


Sherlock Didn't Do This

by nicholas_de_vilance



Category: Sherlock (TV), Supernatural
Genre: Drunk Sex, M/M, One Night Stands, Rough Sex, Sexual Content
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-08-06
Updated: 2012-08-06
Packaged: 2017-11-11 13:24:41
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,142
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/479004
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nicholas_de_vilance/pseuds/nicholas_de_vilance
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sherlock didn't do this.  He really didn't do this.  This was not something that he did.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Sherlock Didn't Do This

**Author's Note:**

> Written in about an hour because Bridget asked for porn. PWP!

Sherlock didn’t do this.  He really didn’t do this.  This was not something that he did.  Ever.  _Ever_.  So what the fuck was he doing?  Being both incredibly stupid and ludicrously aroused.  Of all places that he may have expected this to happen though, Huntsville, Texas had not been one of them.  One could make the case that he was caught off guard.  It would be a weak case with more plot holes than a novel about Swiss cheese, but it could be made.  He’d been caught off guard in an American bar after a few drinks he shouldn’t have accepted by a pair of pretty green eyes.  That would almost explain the first kiss.

            If it could, indeed be called a kiss.  It was more like they both were trying to bite each other on the mouth at the same time because Sherlock did not take things lying down—figuratively or literally, apparently.  This Dean fellow didn’t either, and thus ensued a violent, drunk clash of teeth and tongue while Sherlock had the larger man pressed against the wall outside of a crappy motel room on the highway out of Huntsville.

            There was no explanation however for the way that Sherlock continued to kiss him even after he’d realized what he was doing and that it was utterly idiotic.  Somehow the door was opened; Sherlock was yanked inside by his lapel and then unceremoniously shoved against the door as it closed again.  Dean had him now, pressed against the cool wood with strong hands and powerful hips.  Blinking quickly, Sherlock figured out that perhaps he was a little tipsy and perhaps he shouldn’t box himself in a cheap motel room with a complete stranger.  He figured this out and then laced his hands through the spikes at the back of Dean’s head to hold the man in place and soundly ravage his mouth.

            It was heat and breath and friction at the point, when Dean wriggled a thigh between Sherlock’s knees and worked his legs apart, grinding their hips together and biting Sherlock’s lower lip.  Sherlock tasted blood and felt himself roll his body into Dean out of instinct.  A low, gravelly moan flittered about in the air above their heads, but Sherlock wasn’t too sure which of them it came from.

            In a haze of both the intoxication and Sherlock’s painfully blinding arousal, he was seized by his arms.  Once he realized what was happening, he struggled of course.  However, once he realized what was happening he was already airborne, in a way.  A moment later his back hit the scratchy, uncomfortable motel duvet.  Slightly stunned, he looked up at where Dean was stripping his shirt off, and he took a moment to again appreciate just how much he does _not_ do this.  Then, he took his shoes and socks off.  He was in the middle of pulling his jacket off when Dean descended on him once more, pinning Sherlock down and practically ripping his trousers open.  Sherlock’s heart was pounding as he felt his slacks and pants yanked off of him.

            “Oh god!” he practically shouted, tossing his head back into the pillow as Dean took his cock between absurdly talented lips.  He would have rolled his hips up were they not pinned down, so instead he gripped tightly to Dean’s hair and held on for the ride.  This was all going so fast he was getting dizzy.

            Dean’s mouth was hot and insistent, sucking Sherlock and licking him and once or twice Sherlock could feel himself press into the tightness of Dean’s throat.  At which point he promptly made embarrassing keening noises that he would deny until death.  One of Dean’s hands—the one not currently holding Sherlock down—appeared from somewhere Sherlock couldn’t see, slick with something.  Were they not slick, the abrupt shove of two fingers into his tight hole may have been a lot more painful.  Not to say that it wasn’t.

            Sherlock cried out, deep voice cracking as his fingers dug into Dean’s scalp and his legs drew up, veritably pinning Dean’s head between his thighs for a moment.  The fingers moved immediately, in and out of him, fucking him just this side of painful.  The pleasure from Dean’s mouth on his throbbing erection seemed to cancel out the deep burn until it was just an easy slide, in and out and in again.  He felt the third finger stretch him even further with a wince and quiet gasp.

            These sounds were getting to be a bit much.  Sherlock brought his hand up and clapped it over his mouth and Dean worked him open and sucked him deep into his throat once more.  It was devastating and glorious, the way Dean’s fingers seemed to thrust in ad just the right angle to send bolts of pleasure shooting through Sherlock’s body.  In fact, it was so good that Sherlock hadn’t felt it coming until he was…coming.

            His entire body wound up, tight like a bow string and then spasmed as his cock shot bursts of hot come into Dean’s mouth, down his throat.  Sherlock’s eyes were squeezed shut, and he was breathing so hard against the back of his hand to keep himself from screaming.  The spasms lessened into tremors eventually, though Sherlock couldn’t be sure how long because he was fairly certain that he had whited out.

            When he came back to himself—well, the most recent semblance of himself—he was shivering and sticky with sweat.  He could feel Dean moving over him, but couldn’t really bring himself to care.  Sherlock was quite fairly spent.  However, Dean was not.  He gripped Sherlock’s legs by the ankles and pulled them up easily.  He’d barely undone his trousers and pulled his dick out before he was pressing into Sherlock.

            Sherlock was so relaxed that all he could do for a moment was groan at the intrusion that was a bit larger than he’d been prepared for.  Dean wasted no time and began thrusting into Sherlock’s pliant body with abandon, hitting that over-sensitized sweet-spot inside of Sherlock over and over again, making the detective bite his finger to keep from letting out these pathetic mewling noises.  Immediately, Dean pulled his hand away and claimed his mouth in a blistering kiss.  Despite his current state of debauchery, Sherlock met the kiss fiercely.  If he wasn’t going to control it, he was going down fighting…and fucking.

            Sherlock was vaguely aware of when Dean came, hips moving like a piston into Sherlock’s welcoming, tight ass.  There was a pulse of heady warmth deep inside of him and Dean’s thrusts became erratic, and the man growled—fucking _growled_ into Sherlock’s ear.  The sound sent tangible shivers and goosebumps over Sherlock’s skin.

            Once done, pulled out, condom sorted, the both of them passed out into a blissfully sex-addled unconsciousness.


End file.
